


Visiting Hours Only

by leogrl19



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, Love/Hate, Prison
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-04 00:54:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leogrl19/pseuds/leogrl19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of shorts between femShep and the infamous Maya Brooks while the latter is serving time in that high security prison. Set after the events of ME3, so...I guess this is somewhat AU? Shepard's alive and the ending didn't suck. *POSSIBLE CITADEL SPOILERS.*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Session One

**Author's Note:**

> Huh. 
> 
> You know, I'm a bit surprised there aren't more Shepard/Brooks fics out there. I can't be the only one who felt something between those two. Well, something more than spite/angst/hatred. 
> 
> Regardless, curiosity killed my cat and I couldn't get those two out of my mind, thus: this madness. I actually had a Shep who was single throughout the course of three games, whether it was the possible LIs themselves or because she friend-zoned them, and I thought the least I could do was get her some action. Also: I kinda love Brooks. Must be her voice....

* * *

 

“Mind if I ask how you pulled this one off?” Maya Brooks made a show of tugging the electronic restraints linking her wrists to a bolted table. “It isn’t everyday a person manages to piss off a Spectre, and still get let out for visitation.” Her gaze fell on the translucent, blue energy field covering the entrance, an armed guard’s back to them. “It’s fairly impressive.”

 

“Me or you?” Brooks smirked; Shepard smiled, the sound of hollow metal scraping against a concrete floor…before she set the simple chair in front of her. “Call it a…perk of saving the galaxy twice.” The soldier sat down heavily; uncaringly. “You’d be amazed the things people do for you: complimentary spa vouchers, chocolates under the pillow – the occasional high-security prison visit….”

 

Dark eyes stared back at her. “You always did make terrible jokes…The hardest part of our mission together was pretending they were funny.” She leaned forward, slightly, in her own chair, “Would it be a waste asking why you’re here?” A single shrug of her shoulder. “Not that I won’t find out eventually, but surprisingly, I’m in no mood for foreplay. Or your pathetic need for control.” Bored. “I may be a prisoner, but I do have better things to do.”

 

“Like steal someone else’s identity?”

 

Brooks smiled. “Exactly.”

 

Shepard chuckled. “Least you’re consistent. Or should it be ‘persistent’?” She tasked a few fingers with brushing away pale, copper strands. “You know, I’m not much for plans off the battlefield. I came here thinking I’d let you be the initiator of our little reunion.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“It was a bit…quick, wasn’t it? Hasty.” The other’s brow rose. “Our farewell. I thought you might have questions.”

 

“How presumptuous.”

 

“ _Right_?” Another smile. “I figure I’ve earned a few. Presumptions, that is.” She waved a hand. “‘Life’s too short’, and all that.”

 

Brooks studied her, leaning back in her chair, softly humming restraints taunt once more.

 

Silence.

 

Shepard crossed her leg, amused.

 

The prisoner’s eyes narrowed, before– “Why didn’t you kill me?” 

 

Scarred lips curled. “Why haven’t you broken out yet?”

 

“Don’t be a smart ass.” 

 

“Come on. You do it well enough.” In fact, the other woman wielded it like a pistol: short, sharp bursts of caustic wit. Flirtation…A smarter person would have found cover. “Maybe I’m trying to impress you. Did I mention saving the galaxy twice?” A wrinkle took her brow. "Three times, if you count the Collector base – but that one just felt cheap…"

 

“Fine.” Clipped. “If you won’t answer my questions, there isn’t any reason to answer yours.” Brooks looked away. “You can leave now.” 

 

Shepard was on her feet; the hollow chair shivered. “I’ve already told you.” 

 

Dark, impenetrable orbs found her again. “You’re a goody two shoes.” 

 

A slow smile. “Sure.”

 

“Then why bother with this?” Her brows were low. “You’ve won, Shepard. Killed the clone, saved the day, locked away the bad guy.”

 

She scoffed. “You’re not bad. Ambitious, definitely. A control freak. Maybe daddy issues?” She was awarded a glare. “No? Worth a shot. The ex-Cerberus I’ve worked with, so far, all seem to have that in common.”

 

“Tick-tock, Commander…”

 

Shepard paused…nails scratching against metal, before taking a seat again. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

 

“Oh my.” Her body adapted. Sensual.

 

 _Dangerous_.

 

The soldier smiled, feeling the ‘I told you so’ in waves. “Ever wished you knew someone before the shit hit the fan?” She wasn’t given an answer. “Maybe we could have been friends.”

 

“Lovers?” Brooks’ foot brushed her calf.

 

“I could have gotten another groupie out of it, at least. Dithering about, getting shot; OD-ing on medigel.” She shook her head, remembering how the other acted for the majority of their time together. “It was cute. The bumbling idiot bit. You had us all fooled…” she leaned forward, hands facedown on the table, “How’d you get so good at playing a part?”

 

A smirk.

 

Shepard felt her lips echo it. “I get a bit obsessed with your type. I just have to find out as much as I can…Though, with you, it was more evening the score. You know everything, right – Mindoir; Akuze…” a moment, it all she gave for either, “Another perk? Having the Shadow Broker as a friend.” She leaned back once more. “Sad starts make the most interesting people, don’t they?” Brooks was silent; Shepard removed a datapad from her pocket. “How about I tell you what I dug up and you tell me if I’m close?” 

 

More silence. 

 

“You were a child laborer in a mining facility on Themis. In fact, we both would have had very short, very brutish lives – if not for certain strokes of luck. An Alliance patrol for me; a ‘Miss. Brooks’, for you.” The other woman remained expressionless, her lips tight. “Then, you killed her, took her ship, and some odd years later, under the alias of ‘Rasa’, managed a meeting with the Illusive Man.” The soldier continued to idly scroll through the pad’s contents, “There’s a few more juicy tidbits here and there, but you already know about those.”

 

The corners of her lips curved, and she actually looked impressed. "So, you know my past–” Brooks scoffed, “as much as anyone ever will. But here we are, back at the start.” A long, gauging look. “Why bother coming when your asari could have given you everything you wanted?”

 

"There are things the extranet couldn't answer.” A shrug. “Or, maybe I just couldn’t settle. I’m shit at it, really…” Shepard rose again, advancing, “The clone,” the other’s face flashed with interest; rough fingers brushed her cheek, “Did you fuck it?” 

 

Her eyes were alive. “How very inappropriate.”

 

“I wait with damn near bated breath, the moment you can give a straight answer.”

 

“Yes.” Unabashed. “It was there and highly convenient. I also knew it wouldn’t form any of those silly little attachments.” Brooks leaned into her touch, as if to mock her. “A lot of people say “no strings” – the clone didn’t know any other way. Six months didn’t allow for ‘love’ — I was too busy teaching her how to hold a gun.” She eyed her intently. “Oh.” A sly look, as if she’d forgotten something _obvious_. “And, who _doesn’t_ want to fuck the great Commander Shepard?” 

 

“You still haven’t.” Shepard grinned. “But, I like the way you say it…” she traced her lips, “Truth mixed with scorn. It’s so,” a beat, “human.” Her fingers dipped lower. “Unpredictable.” Lower still. “Unprogrammed. Not like a clone.”

 

Brooks was unfazed. “We’re at our best when we have a single focus. Humans, that is.” A scoff. “Multi-tasking is a lie. Only one thing can be given one hundred percent at any given time.” She smiled. “Stopping the Reapers. We’re all still alive; you did well…But, just imagine if all that energy, all that _focus,_ was only given to humanity. Think how far we could go, how much more we could accomplish…" a pause, those dark orbs clouding with something close to regret, “ _She_ was humanity’s future.”

 

“‘What for’?” It wasn’t her question. Maya looked at her sharply. “You abandoned it, in the end. It didn’t even have a reason to live.” For the first time, the other woman looked affected by her words; Shepard cocked her head to the side. “I wasn’t the person you wanted, didn’t terrorize aliens enough – yet, something in you was still…” she licked her lips, feeling Brooks’ throat tremble, “attracted. Not that you should worry: I’m very much in the same boat. I can’t bring myself to like you – hell, I wanted to kill you. Unload the entire clip.” Her nails dug into the tender flesh. “You put my crew, my ship – my very identity – in jeopardy.” The smallest push closer; their breaths mingled. “But there’s something about you, Brooks.” Shepard scoffed. “Lilium.” The prisoner rolled her eyes. “Rasa?” A toothy smile. “You’re just so damned interesting…”

 

“What are you doing?” Her voice wavered; her eyes were defiant. 

 

“Something we both want.” Their lips brushed; Shepard sighed. “Or maybe I’m just living up to what you said.” She felt the other’s curves through the rough material of her prison uniform. “Hero worship. Maybe I’ve never felt like anyone’s given a shit.”

 

Their eyes met — and it’s only a moment — a flicker neither will admit, before their mouths joined roughly.

 

Brooks bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood.

 

Shepard laughed, kissing her again.


	2. Session Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love isn't the end game for this story.
> 
> And isn't *that* interesting? Oh, how the characters will shine....

* * *

 

“So,” Shepard linked her arms, idly tapping a bicep, “tell me about yourself.”   
  
Brooks' laughter reverberated throughout the cell, stern, concrete walls bouncing the warm, caustic sound.  
  
Shepard smiled. Leaned into her chair.  
  
It was a nice laugh.    
  
Maya Brooks dabbed the corner of her eye with a dull, grey sleeve. "Oh, wait..." several strands were tucked behind her ear, "you're serious?"  
  
The soldier shrugged. “We'll have to start somewhere.” Another smile. "And I'm 'retired', now. I've nothing but time." A shrug. "Unless something else threatens galactic peace…Maybe the vorcha? They've been fairly quiet."  
  
Something in those dark eyes shifted. "You left the Alliance?"  
  
"You sound surprised." The other's lips thinned; her brow jumped. "You _are_ surprised." Brooks looked to the cell's entrance. "Your sources didn't tell you?"  
  
"Sources?" Innocent.  
  
Shepard nodded slowly, eying the cot in the corner, the various books lining its edge. "I was told you were denied technology—" a scoff, "not that we have much left..." a dark pause, "But I doubt that slowed you down. You're too clever."  
  
"Am I?"  
  
"You fooled me." Brooks smirked: predatory. Victorious. "I won't underestimate you again."   
  
"Hm…" the prisoner's hands folded, restraints glowing softly against reinforced glass, "Why leave the Alliance?"  
  
"You've forgotten how this works." She mirrored the action, folding her hands as well. "I don't have to answer your questions."  
  
The other cocked her head: coy; another play at innocence. "I'm simply curious…The Alliance made _this_." She gestured emphatically. "The Commander Shepard an entire galaxy respects — _fears_ — and I've never seen a recruit more loyal. Even while working with Cerberus, you never hid where your allegiances lied. Why would you?" A sharp glance. "The Alliance saved your life." She straightened; Brooks leaned forward. "Now. After all that hero worship, all that tireless devotion, why would you leave?"  
  
Shepard shoved away from the table between them, abandoning her chair — running a hand through her hair — turning…. She glanced around the room. "I didn't think places like this still existed…" her fingers pressed against a cold, harsh wall. "Stone and concrete…" she smiled at a barred window, "You even have a view."  
  
A beat.  
  
"It is rather charming…An old psych ward abandoned ages ago and repurposed into a penitentiary." Her voice curled, smirking for her. "For those who truly can't be saved."  
  
"Scuttlebutt says you brokered a deal. " A backward glance, "Gave up some useful intel to help smooth the process."  
  
"'Useful'?" A wry laugh. "I suppose it _would_ be news to them. It's terribly amusing how something utterly useless to some, can mean the world to others."  
  
"Still. It got you your choice of facilities — you could have easily secured a comfy cell on the Citadel." Shepard faced her fully. "Why Earth?" She searched dark, indecipherable orbs. "Why here?"  
  
"Well, disregarding the fact that many of those facilities, you mentioned, no longer exist or are in a state of abject disrepair…" the soldier watched a less severe turn of her lips, the expression impossibly foreign against the rest of her features, "It's fitting. The birthplace of humanity…" Brooks chuckled — as if remembering a joke fondly. "Even I have fits of romanticism, Commander."  
  
Shepard smiled. "You wanted to know why I left the Alliance?" The other looked expectant. "I'd like to think the same reason you left Cerberus. All good things…" she trailed, a waving hand implying the rest. "That, and my body just isn't what it used to be;" her expression grew, "I'm getting _old_."  
  
"Please." A wrinkle carved its path across the prisoner's brow, as if personally insulted. "The cybernetic implants Mr. Illusive sprung for, will have you living well beyond the expected human lifespan."  
  
"Oh, the cybernetics held their end — kept me from falling apart long enough to fight a war. But, everything has its limit." She raised a hand, flexing her fingers. "And, dying can be awfully traumatic…"  
  
"How was that?" Shepard raised a brow. "Dying — I've always wondered. Were any lights involved? There always seems to be this bizarre obsession with bright lights — absolution, and all that…" her eyes flicked away, "Or was it more of an inky nothingness? An ominous voice set on judgement? Fire and brimstone?" The woman smirked. "So many spend their entire lives consolidating death, yet here you are, the blazing exception."  
  
Her mouth parted — a million different things — the words abandoning her with each attempt; she smiled instead. "You'll just have to experience it yourself."  
  
A slow nod. "Probably for the best. It'd be a tragedy to spoil it."  
  
Shepard scoffed — _laughed_. "We wouldn't want that…" her gaze dipped, taking in the other's cuffs, "There was a time I wasn't." The device hummed softly. "Scared. You choose to be a soldier, you're told the score. You die for what you believe in. You kill for what you believe in. You're expendable." Her vision began to blur, melting into a dull blue glow — the fleeting brown of Brooks' wrists. "You come to terms with that. You think you're ready…But no one knows — not a damn clue — until it happens…" fingers trailed her neck, pressing against her throat, "It's terrifying. You're all alone." The prisoner eyed her with a perverse mix of fascination; her hand fell. "Still a Spectre, though." Several, idle steps. "Couldn't give it up completely."  
  
"You could have been so much more than a soldier." Brooks smiled — but it wasn't for her. "Don't get me wrong — you've done perfectly well with the course you've chosen. It just isn't the best you could have been."  
  
"And your clone would have been that?"  
  
The woman glanced up, meeting her eyes as if for the very first time. "Oh, yes." It was only a moment, a glimpse of remorse in between the arrogance; Shepard's brows dipped; the prisoner folded her hands. “I have quite a few ‘origin’ stories, Commander — which would you prefer?” Her face twisted into a mockery of grief. “The girl abandoned by her parents, aching for acceptance?” Another mask. “The hard hearted orphan set on revenge?" Her brow raised. "If you have any requests…"  
  
"The alien hating idealist who joined Cerberus?"  
  
She tsked. "Too personal. I really have nothing against the other races: I simply believe humanity deserves more." Brooks leaned forward. "Is that really so terrible to you? You were so upset back at those archives when I talked about your little friends…The asari, and that turian–"   
  
"Liara T'Soni and Garrus Vakarian."  
  
Brooks cocked her head, clucking her tongue fondly. "That's sweet." Shepard's eyes narrowed. "The galaxy is full of extremists: Cerberus merely followed a pattern that was already there." A smirk. "But, you're a bit of an extremist, in your own right, aren't you?" Dark eyes gauged her sharply. "When you chose to destroy the Alpha Relay and kill all of those batarians, did it sadden you?"  
  
Her jaw twitched. "Yes."  
  
The prisoner looked bored. "Even with Mindior?"  
  
"I learned, a long time ago, to see the difference between the slavers who destroyed my colony and every other batarian."  
  
"Noble." The other seemed genuinely impressed…before sighing. "I do feel terrible for some of the projects Cerberus worked on. You can't imagine the guilt."  
  
"You're a damned liar." _Hissed_ through clenched teeth.   
  
Brooks smiled, falling back into her chair; she chuckled to herself. "You could have been happy with that. It could have been enough." A sly look. "If you wanted it to be."  
  
"I want the truth."  
  
Her shoulders bounced nonchalantly. "I don't regret a thing." She placed her chin in one hand. "You're here to 'fix' me. You think these chats of ours will help you 'get in'." Another shrug. "It isn't the worst theory. What's one more soul for you to take under your wing?" _Derisive_. "Another hopeless convert into the mighty cult of Shepard?"  
  
The soldier nodded, stepping forward to push in her chair. "We're done for today. I have a feeling I won't be getting anything else useful."  
  
Brooks smiled up at her. Vicious.  
  
 _Victorious_.  
  
Shepard turned away, motioning to the guard as she made her way to the electronic barrier that separated them.   
  
"I noticed the cameras on, this time." Brooks' superior tone beckoned from behind. "No kiss?"  
  
Shepard smiled, returning the respectful nod the guard gave her, as she stepped through to the other side.


	3. Session Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was inspired by Cybertronic Purgatory (wilderness)'s story, 'Flickers'. There's hardly any femShep/Brooks fics out there, romantic or otherwise, and this is an exceptionally well done one.

* * *

 

"Not today, Shepard." The words leave, succinct — cold — as Brooks peered at a book, the tip of her nail agitatedly flicking a crease at the tip of the page.

 

A small, unassuming box rested beside her unoccupied hand.

 

Shepard paused. Smiled. A foot in, a foot out…Before retreating completely. Signaling the guard. 

 

Not today.


End file.
